


Adjusting

by MilkyMint



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: 2 bros chilling on the couch, 5 feet apart but not for long, Established Relationship, M/M, cause they're both gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 02:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17153735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkyMint/pseuds/MilkyMint
Summary: Some things need time getting used to. Maybe you're shopping at a new store. Maybe you moved to another planet. Maybe you're dating the mothman.





	Adjusting

Duck Newton stared at the ice-cream shelf, and tried to decide between over twenty flavors.  
Leo had only allowed four in his store: Vanilla, Caramel, Brown, and Pistachio. Clean, simple, with just enough choice to ward off boredom.  
But with Kepler’s general store still being remodeled, Duck had been forced to drive over to Jacobsville, where the local owner had placed a lot more emphasis on novelty.  
He was weighing between 'Quintuple Quokie Dough' and ‘Starberry Blaster' when someone shouted his name.

“Duck Newton? Is there a Duck Newton here? Got a phone call for you.”  
He grabbed both containers from the freezer, added them to his cart, and went over to the payphone by the entrance.  
The shouter saw him approaching, and said into the receiver: “Sir, I owe you an apology, turns out that is someone’s actual real given name"  
“It’s a nickname”, Duck said exasperated and picked up the phone. He hadn't told anyone where he was, which left one option.

"Hey Indrid. Listen, I'm gonna be a bit late, there was a whole thing at work, and now I’m-“.  
“- over in Jacobsville, I know, "came Indrid’s lilting voice over the phone. “ And you are about to be even later. In three minutes the cashier at the Superstore will break all the fingers in her right hand, so either the following chaos or your timely intervention will result in quite a bit of a delay".

Duck turned towards the register. Sure enough, the line was long, the cashier was young, and the machine looked old, mean, and heavy, in a way that probably deterred someone from grabbing it and running, but would cause some serious harm when dropped on someone’s fingers.  
Or, he thought, as he saw the man in front of the line, with his wallet out and an impatient hand outstretched to the distressed woman behind the counter, when someone tried to open the cash drawer for change, but messed up and got their hand caught in the contraption.

"Aww, fuck", he said into the phone. "Listen, I’ll deal with this, and with the drive and all ... it'll be at least an hour until I make it home. Do you just wanna reschedule?"  
"I'm already in your apartment,” Indrid replied.  
“Man, what the Fuck?”  
“I apologize for the intrusion, but you didn’t lock your door this morning and I had to use your landline. Your cat might attack me soon.”  
"Just feed her, okay? She gets mean when she's hungry".  
"Will do." Indrid hung up.

Duck abandoned his cart and sprinted to the front of the line, where the cashier was jamming a pen between the drawer and the register. She was just about to stick her hand inside the small opening, when Duck reached over the counter and slapped it away. The drawer snapped shut and broke the pen clean in two.  
"First of all, I am very sorry about that," he said to the shocked cashier, Nina, according to her name tag. "But that could have been your hand!"  
"No, no, it’s fine," she replied, clearly distressed. "I just messed up his change and I need to get it out and "her voice grew quieter" I can’t keep calling my manager for stuff like this.”  
Duck gestured to the line behind him. “Just get it with the next customer!”

Nina looked even more nervous now, like she was about to cry. "I tried, but ... ." The man suddenly spoke up. "I'm not moving until I get my change!" Duck whirled on him, and was taken back by the realization that this jackass was at least five years younger than him. Not an old cranky guy then, just an asshole.  
Okay. Deep breath.  
"Alright, I get it, you just wanna get home. You had a rough day; I’ve had a really rough day. We all have cats we'd rather be home playing with right now. But workplace safety, that’s really important. Nina here, she could have lost her fingers. Never played the piano again. Or never learned to play the piano, I don’t know her piano situation. That's really not something you want to jeopardize for three bucks, is it?"  
He gave his best “friendly, but stern smile", the one usually reserved for teenagers trying to get drunk in the forest.

"It's three forty-five, actually", the jerk said, and Duck could feel his patience evaporating. "Oh my god, are you serious!" He rummaged in his pants, pulled out a grubby five dollar Note, and pushed it into the man’s chest. "Here, with interest and everything. Just take it and fuck off, I am not dealing with you today.”  
The guy looked like he was going to explode. But he grabbed the money, shot one last angry look at Nina and huffed: "I'll be leaving a very negative review on your website". Then he stormed off before anyone could reply.

Duck turned back to Nina. "Sorry about that. And uhm, about the hand, again. I'll, uh, I'll leave a mean comment on his review, if that helps?"  
"It's fine," Nina said. "We don't even have a website".

\-------------------------------------------------

Duck braced himself and opened his front door, let the heat wash over him and stepped into the living room. As expected, Indrid had turned the radiators to full blast. Duck put his shopping bag on the ground, and stepped into the living room.  
He froze when he saw the Mothman sprawled out on his couch.  
He glanced at the windows, but the shutters were still down from when he had left in a hurry. He went back to the front door, made sure it was locked. Alright. No immediate danger. Duck went back into the living room and took a moment to assess.  
Indrid was lying on his side, huge wings wrapped around him like a cocoon. Only the head was poking out at the left side, the huge, red, faceted, eyes dull.

So. Indrid had fallen asleep, dropped to the side, and his glasses had probably...there, on the ground to the left of the couch. Duck stepped over as quietly as he could in his work boots and picked them up. He peered through the red lenses. Strange, that this is how Indrid saw the world all the time.  
He lowered the glasses and looked down at his boyfriend.  
The actual fucking mothman.  
Indrid didn't like the term, but Duck couldn’t find a better one. Sure, the wings were feathered, but the head, with its giant bug eyes, narrow skull, fluffy antennae, and mandibles sure made up for that.  
Duck hesitated a moment, then gingerly pushed his fingers into the fur between the large antennae. They sunk in to the second knuckle, and he realized that even as a giant moth, Indrid was a pretty slim guy.  
His fingertips met surprisingly rough skin. He made a slow, circular scratching motion, like petting a sleepy cat.  
The mandibles started twitching and Duck wondered whether that was a good or bad sign.

The big eyes suddenly glowed unsteady, like candles burning behind stained glass.  
He flinched back and barely managed not to shriek. "Ah, sorry. Glasses fell off and I just…” he trailed off, unsure on how to finish that sentence in a non-weird way. The glow steadied.  
" Don't apologize. That's a nice way to wake up." Indrid sat up and scooted over to the right side of the couch. The wings unfurled from around him, and he turned towards Duck, letting them hang off the side of the couch.  
"Still," he said and held out a three fingered, fuzzy hand. „Glasses, please".  
"Actually, hold on a second". Duck stared, silently counting. The wings he could deal with, no problem. The eyes were strange, but fascinating. Arms that looked bulky, but were probably as skinny as the long legs, under all that fuzz. And of course, the exposed, smooth thorax. Duck wasn't sure what to compare that to, but he felt the morbid urge to stick a finger in between the protruding ribs.

After five seconds, he handed over the glasses. Indrid put them on and immediately the big spooky Mothman was replaced by a lanky human man who looked like he had been crumpled up and badly ironed out.

He was wearing a dark sweater, and jeans that didn't look new, but definitively clean. For Indrid, it practically counted as formal wear.  
Right. Because they were supposed to have a nice dinner date. And Duck was sitting here in his mud splattered work clothes. Thanks for nothing, West Virginia spring. He shrugged out of his damp jacket and put it behind him on the back of the couch.  
Under his glasses, Indrid’s eyes looked even more sunken in than usual.  
"Hey, you look tired.” Duck blurted out, before he could stop himself.  
“ That is great to hear.”  
“I mean, you look nice, that's a nice sweater, but. You pull any all nigthers lately?"  
"Just the one." Indrid stretched, and turned his head from side to side. Recalibrating, Duck knew, from a dream with one clear timeline, to a sprawling web of possibilities.  
He found it ironic that, while his own visions came to him during sleep, all jumbled and incoherent, Indrid just dreamt one linear future, whatever his subconscious decided to focus on at the time. With their powers combined, they'd make one normal person! Or, well. As normal as it was ever going to get around here.  
Indrid turned towards him and tucked his legs in under him. “Do you mind telling me what that”, pointed two fingers at Duck and then himself,” was all about?”  
“I'm just trying to get used to it. It's kinda freaky.” Duck froze.  
"Wait. No. That came out bad. Sorry, I’m saying bad shit tonight. It’s just like. It’s not bad it’s just. It’s just weird. It’s like if I was dating a dude who was seven feet tall."  
That got a smile.  
" I like to think that I'm a tad more unique than your average basketball player. But I get it Duck, I really do. I was used to human-ish looking people long before I ever set foot on this planet. I didn't have to adjust to seeing strange and unusual people in the street."  
Duck grinned.  
„ What, you never went to New York?“ "Did you?" "No, but I’ve ... I mean I've been to Charleston and that’s like. Almost the same. Honestly I was making a dumb joke because I made the mood weird."  
Indrid leaned back on the couch, and rested his head on the back.  
„I actually went, sometime in the 50s. But big cities are just too much. Too many people, too many possibilities, changing too fast to spot any pattern. After two weeks, I was jumping at shadows. Me!” Indrid sounded almost offended, and Duck managed not to smile.  
“So, I packed up and headed for quieter pastures.”

He tilted his head and looked at Duck with a grin.  
"I still get tripped up over the small stuff. Back in Sylvain, I just had furniture and tools that worked for this. "He held up his right hand with three fingers outstretched and wiggled them in Ducks face.  
Duck grunted and pulled the hand down, but didn’t let go. The hand was cold, of course. That was a level of weirdness Duck had gotten quite comfortable with.

"So, you had like special- “  
“-Cutlery?”  
Indrid shook his head. "No. I didn’t need that before I came over here. The first time eating spaghetti was quite the experience".  
"Then what did you use before that? Heck what did you eat?  
Indrid hesitated. “You are going to make fun of me.”  
Duck grinned and squeezed his hand. "Well, now I definitely am”  
"I… used a straw"  
" A straw?"  
" You’ve seen my” Indrid paused again, searching the words. "Mouth ... tools." Duck filed that away for future mockery, but didn’t interject, so Indrid continued: "Good for ripping, not great for chewing. Before I acquired this“, he gestured to his teeth, „I was on a strict liquid diet."  
"Wait. You were just having a 24/7 sangria party?"  
"Pretty much".  
"Sounds not too bad, actually." The realization hit Duck like a milk truck. "Holy shit, that’s why you nog!"

Indrid’s smile turned wistful. "Closest I can get to my childhood favorites."  
“Huh.” Duck thought on that, until Indrid spoke up again.

"For the record, as far as humans go, you, Duck Newton, are one of the strangest I have ever met."  
Duck stared at him horrified.  
“ What? No I’m not. Shut up. How dare you!” Indrid just kept grinning at him. 

“I'm a forest ranger who builds model ships for fun. I'm casual. I'm basic! My idea of a fancy home dinner is brand name pizza. By the way, I got you a-”  
“ -Four cheese. Thanks Dear, I'm into it. You’re also one of the few people on this planet with a destiny. Most people wish for a clear path in life, to be told what they are supposed to do. You were given that option, and fought against it for years.And instead of becoming bitter against a world that demands so much, you just became aggressively. You. You won’t take the path you didn’t choose, but you won’t choose the path that hurts others. Not because of the man you're supposed to be, or meant to be. Simply because that is who you want to be. ”  
Duck stared at him, lost for words.

When he found them, they were not eloquent.  
“Okay, now I’m just embarrassed." He bent forwards and started working on his dirty boots, trying to play off how much those words had gotten to him. They were so caked in mud, it was hard to grab the laces.

“There is no reason to be embarrassed. You are an impressive man, Duck, and you do impressive things.”

“Yeah, like what?” Duck muttered, finally prying off the left boot.  
He started work on the other. He stopped when he felt Indrid's cool hand on his neck, the thumb just brushing his cheek. He turned his head into the touch. Indrid had shuffled closer and was looking at him over his glasses, eyebrows raised.  
Duck laughed. “Oh, you smooth son of a bitch.”

\-------------------------------------------------

Later, Duck found both tubs of ice-cream next to the door, right by the radiator where he had left them. He shook one, heard sloshing, and cursed his distracted brain, loudly, twice.  
Then laughed and went to the Kitchen to search for straws.

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to get a lot angstier, but the I decided to treat myself. Happy candlenights fellow weirdos.  
> (it's been forever since i wrote anything, please be kind. It's not perfect but it's the best i can do.)


End file.
